


Don't Wear It Out

by toomuchplor



Series: Knick Knock [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-27
Updated: 2007-10-27
Packaged: 2017-10-20 04:22:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/208683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toomuchplor/pseuds/toomuchplor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"I’m thinking he looks like a Ben.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Wear It Out

**Author's Note:**

> Silly, silly, silly. This series may get more serious eventually. But for now, silly, silly, silly.

Rodney made Keller run the test twice more, but as far as John was concerned, there was no doubt that she was right. It was strange, as though Keller's words had unblinkered everyone and suddenly nothing in the universe could be more obvious: the child was McKay's spitting image, from the square little shoulders to the broad forehead, from the wide mouth, to the guileless blue eyes. After the third test gave the exact same results, even Rodney had to concede to the blatant truth.

"How did you not recognize yourself?" John asked. "I mean, surely you've seen baby pictures."

"My parents kept my hair short," said McKay, still shell-shocked. "I kind of see why. Kid looks like a tornado hit his head."

"He's got style, I like it," said John, mostly to be perverse. They stood across the infirmary from where Keller was continuing her examination.

“You shouldn’t get attached,” Rodney told John. “There’s probably something wrong with him, he’s going to age years overnight like one of those primordial dwarves, or break down at the cellular level, or start spewing pea soup or something.”

John barely registered Rodney's words. He was busy watching Dr. Keller as she put a stethoscope to the little boy's chest, listening to his heartbeat, or maybe his breathing.

“Carson always told me stories about cloning,” Rodney continued, working himself into a greater panic. “Before Dolly came along, they produced hundreds of deformed sheep. Three eyes, like Blinky the fish.” He pointed at his own eyes in demonstration. “Just because you can’t see the defect doesn’t mean --”

“Does he look like a Ben to you?” asked John, still not paying attention. “I’m thinking he looks like a Ben.”

“You can’t name him!” Rodney hissed, appalled. “What did I just say about not getting attached? Besides, he doesn’t look like a _Ben_.”

“You’re right,” said John, thoughtful. “Maybe more like a Tom.”

“He looks like a _Rodney_ ,” Rodney corrected emphatically. “ _Exactly_ like a Rodney, as a matter of fact, but you’re not naming him, Sheppard. Don’t even think about naming him!”

“Well, we can’t call him Rodney,” said John. “It’s too confusing. Plus -- awful name." He smirked, adding, "No offense.”

“I’ll have you know --” Rodney began hotly, then faltered. “Well, it’s better than Meredith!” he tried, defensively.

“Gah,” said John, making a face. “No, not Meredith. Those are your only names?”

“That, and my mother’s maiden name,” said Rodney, his gaze distracted by the way that Keller had frowned momentarily. “Did you see that? Did you see Keller's face? Didn’t I tell you, there’s something wrong! He’s going to die horribly of a heart condition! He probably has his heart on the wrong side of his ribs or something. I’ve heard of that happening.”

“Right, your mother’s maiden name,” John said, pointing his finger and smiling. “What was that, it’s on all your diplomas --”

“Ingram,” said Rodney automatically. “Or maybe it’s his lungs, do you think she was listening to his lungs? He probably has cystic fibrosis.”

“Ingram,” said John, frowning. “It’s not really a good name either.”

“It’s a great name,” Rodney argued, more out of habit than any real conviction.

“Well, he’s your clone,” said John, amenably. “Ingram it is.”

“No!” Rodney exclaimed, the volume of his voice drawing a dirty look from Keller, who was listening again. “You can’t call a little boy Ingram!”

“Your parents did,” John pointed out. “Besides, _I_ wanted to call him Ben or Tom, but you didn’t like those names.”

“Just -- stop trying to change the subject. I’m telling you, this kid is never going to last anyway. You know, there’s a mission report from SG-1 early on, about this kid they brought back from some planet and it turned out she had a potassium-naquadah bomb the size of a tennis ball in her chest. She could have taken out all of Cheyenne Mountain.”

“I think Keller would have noticed by now if Ingram were about to explode,” answered John, cutting a cynical look Rodney’s way. “Or if his heart was on the wrong side of his ribs, for that matter.”

“Would you stop calling him that? I’d really prefer it if you didn’t start calling our inevitable messy death by one of my names.”

“He’s a three year old, Rodney.”

“Which is another reason why you can’t call him Ingram,” Rodney said, triumphant.

“What about Nicky?” said John, pulling a frown. “You know, like ‘Knicky Knocky Nine Doors’? After how we found him.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m going back to Ingram,” said Rodney, resting his forehead in his palm.

“Right, so his name is Ingram,” agreed John, nodding.

“You can’t call a little boy ‘Ingram’!” said Elizabeth, arriving just in time to hear John’s declaration.

“Rodney’s idea,” John said, and walked out of the infirmary with a wave, leaving Rodney to explain.


End file.
